Breathe Me
by pheonixfeather94
Summary: "Breathing involves a continual oscillation between inhaling and exhaling, offering ourselves to the world in one moment and drawing the world into ourselves in the next." -David Abram. James/Lily origins


**Author's Note: **Hello all, and welcome. I'm glad you've decided to stop by This is really just a project to piddle around with on the side when I get tired of working on my ST2009 fic, which is my baby. But the HP 'verse has always been (and probably will always be) my first love, and Lily/James my OTP. I've tried to do a full-length L/J fic before, and it turned out terribly—as you'll see, it's no longer even posted in my archives. But I started that one when I was fourteen and clueless, and it was a really awful plotline, so. It just went away. Hopefully, this time around, I'll be able to do the characters a little bit more justice, while being able to explore stylistically. So, without further ado (and while keeping in mind that I own absolutely nothing; characters belong to the wonderful JKR, and the opening lyrics/title belong to Sia), please enjoy, and don't forget to drop me a review and let me know what you think!

* * *

**Breathe Me**

_**Part I**_

_"Help, I have done it again._

_I have been here many times before._

_Hurt myself again today._

_And the worst part is there's no one else to blame."_

* * *

I had taken the photograph back in January, before anything had happened, and after the fight, I had promptly tucked it into the bottom of my trunk and forgotten about it.

The weight of the metal frame was heavy in my hands as I brought it up to my face to inspect it closer. It was the first picture I'd taken with the wizarding camera Severus had gotten me for my sixteenth birthday. The camera itself was sitting on my nightstand—a hefty, antique artifact that I had fallen in love with as soon as I'd seen it; thinking of the amount of money Severus must've paid for it, though he had adamantly refused that it'd been worth it, had always made my stomach squirm uncomfortably.

It was really a terrible picture. The lighting was all wrong, a small table lamp and a roaring fire casting conflicting shadows over Severus and I, seated closely on a plush couch in the Room of Requirement. My hair—longer then, a mass of curls—was tangled around my shoulders, flouncing loosely, fringe swept awkwardly across my forehead. I had been the one holding the camera, my arms reaching across the frame and cutting off just below my elbows, and my eyes were unfocused, staring up and to the right, where my finger had pressed on the shutter. Severus, too, was at a strange angle, torso craning away from me in an attempt to avoid my wild mane of hair, but we were both grinning from ear to ear, both flushed with excitement. I watched with a heavy ache in my chest as every few moments, my photographed self turned around and pressed an enthusiastic kiss to Sev's cheek.

I could remember returning to Gryffindor Tower later that night, almost giddy with happiness; but even then, cracks in the foundation of our friendship had begun to show. By the end of the night, it hadn't even bothered me that he had wanted to give me my gift in secret, that even someplace secluded like the owlery, or a corner of the library, had been too public for his liking. The only thing that had mattered to me was the fact that he had made an effort—that, when we had separated later that evening to go our respective ways, he had hugged me tight and smiled that smile that reached his eyes and told me, no matter what, he would always be there for me.

A lump rose painfully in my throat, and I looked away, towards the window, blinking back the tears that had suddenly clouded my vision. For a brief moment, I considered leaving the photo, tucking it into a cluttered desk drawer, or placing it high on a shelf in the wardrobe, under a pile of too-small jeans. But at the last minute, just before I turned away from the bed, where my trunk was waiting to be packed, I stopped. I glanced down at it once more, wiping away a stray teardrop that had landed on the glass.

I wouldn't have to set it up on my bedside table, or hang it from the wall next to my bed. I wouldn't even have to pull it out of my trunk and look at it. No one in the girls' dorm would even need to know I had it.

Fishing a scarf from the pile of clothes on my bed, I carefully wrapped the delicate frame, and wedged it gently between a chess set and an old potions volume.

_One day,_ I thought. _One day, I'll be able to say a proper goodbye._

* * *

I'd had almost three months to prepare myself for seeing Severus again, but when it happened, I still wasn't ready.

I dallied inside the compartment that the five other Gryffindor girls had decided on, checking and double checking that my trunk was securely tucked into the bin overhead. As the girls chattered on about their summers and what they were looking forward to most about the upcoming term—or, more appropriately, what boys they were most looking forward to seeing in the upcoming term—I barely listened, only contributing a sympathetic nod or a noncommittal "mhm" when absolutely necessary. My mind was running through all the what if's—What if he tried to talk to me? What if he brought up the letters he'd sent, all four of which had sat, unopened, collecting dust on my windowsill for the entirety of the summer?—and the maybe's—Maybe something else had happened over the summer to push our drama out of the spotlight. Maybe the long twelve weeks of summer vacation had been enough time that everyone had either moved on or forgotten.

I stayed in the compartment until the last possible moment before excusing myself to go to the Prefects' meeting. When I reached for the door handle, sliding it open, he was there.

For a moment, we just stared at each other through the small window in the opposite compartment's door. I automatically cataloged everything that had changed about him over the summer: his hair was longer, swinging farther down into his face, which was, if possible, even narrower than when I'd last seen him. He was sitting down, but I could tell that he had grown at least a few centimeters and kilos, as his robes were stretched taut across his slender shoulders, the sleeves stopping just a few inches short of his wrists, which were crossed over his chest. He blinked once, slowly, his eyes dark and unreadable, before the door slid open with a clatter. I started, and the moment was gone; just as quickly as we'd made eye contact, he had turned his head away, towards the window.

Evan Rosier, a Slytherin seventh year, poked his head out into the aisle, a sneer twisting up his otherwise handsome features.

"What's wrong, Mudblood? Can't find your way back to the slums?"

Several bursts of laughter could be heard from inside the compartment, and I felt the blood rise high in my cheeks. I glanced past his shoulder, but Severus was still looking studiously away.

"Nothing's wrong," I muttered. "I was just on my way."

"Too right you were." He cast me another disgusted look before drawing the door shut sharply and lowering the shade.

I shoved past a group of third year girls, my feet heavy and awkward, the blood pounding thickly in my ears. Breath hitched in my chest, and I slowed my steps, struggling to calm myself. I was already going to be late to the Prefects' meeting; it wouldn't do to show up sniffly and red-eyed, as well.

Hands still shaking, I finally reached the Prefects' compartment and slid the door open to find the meeting already in full swing. Pippa Weatherly, a seventh year Ravenclaw and the new Head Girl, twisted around in her seat to look at me, stopping mid-sentence.

"Hello," I said stupidly. My eyes cast around the table where my twenty three fellow Prefects were seated, searching for a familiar head of sandy blonde. They landed, instead, on a mop of messy black that was also familiar, but for entirely different reasons.

"What's he doing here?" I asked, absently reaching out to accept the papers that Pippa handed me. "Where's Remus?"

"Erm." I didn't miss the loaded glance that passed between her and Brian Thomas, the Head Boy. "I'm sure Potter will be more than willing to fill you in after the meeting. For now, have a seat."

A group of Hufflepuff fifth years scooted over to make room for me around the table, and as I sat, I was painfully aware of each pair of eyes that was trained on me.

As the meeting progressed, I barely listened, instead growing more and more irritated with each passing minute. It was obvious that people had neither moved on nor forgotten last year's debacle. The looks the other girls cast me ranged on a scale from smug to sympathetic; the boys merely looked frightened, as if at any moment I might lash out at them, too.

The meeting ended fairly quickly—though not nearly quickly enough for my liking. As soon as we were dismissed, I was up out of my seat and out the door. I headed back to the very back of the train, to the compartment that everybody knew belonged to the infamous four Gryffindor boys.

"Evans! Evans, wait up!"

I quickened my pace, feigning deafness as James Potter hurried to catch up with me. I slipped easily through a group of boys clustered around the snack trolley, and sped up to a near jog. The entire time, I could hear Potter behind me, muttering various apologies as he shoved his way through the center aisle, occasionally calling out to me.

"Evans, if you would just bloody—s'cuse me, so sorry mate—_wait_ a minute and let me—beg pardon—and let me _explain_!"

I finally reached the last compartment, and threw the door open with a clatter.

Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin all jumped at my violent entrance, their heads snapping around to survey me with identical degrees of wariness.

"Remus," I began levelly, and I saw him wince, "would you mind telling me what _this_ idiot was doing in the Prefect's meeting, wearing _your_ badge?"

I hooked my thumb sharply over my shoulder to where Potter had appeared, visibly out of breath and flushed with exertion. He frowned over at me. "Oy!"

Carefully, Remus stood, wiping his palms down the front of his trousers in what I recognized as a nervous gesture. He stepped over Black and Pettigrew's feet—the both of whom were staring up at him in something close to panicked awe—and took hold of my elbow.

"C'mon," he muttered, steering me around towards an empty compartment. "Let's go talk."

"Talk? Remus, what're you on about? Surely this is not—" I cut off, glancing wide-eyed over my shoulder to where Potter was still slumped against the compartment door, panting. "Surely this is just another joke."

When Remus didn't say anything, when his expression took on a grim set, I began to panic.

"Remus." I gripped his arm. "Remus, I don't know what the hell you lot are playing at, but—"

"I resigned my Prefecture."

A beat of silence passed—then two, then three—as I stared up at him in disbelief. "I—I don't—you did _what_?"

He passed a hand wearily over his face. "I just couldn't do it, Lily—I _can't_ do it. You saw what happened last term. I can't even keep control of my own friends." He propped his hands on his hips, and looked away from me, obviously upset. "I took some time to think about it over the summer, and about a month ago, I sent an owl in to Dumbledore with my badge. He was very understanding, of course." He said the last part rather bitterly, a humorless smirk curling up the corners of his mouth.

"But…I don't understand." I felt my anger begin to deflate, replaced instead with sharp stabs of sympathy. Surely I knew just as much about not being able to control friends as he did. "Remus, you're a wonderful Prefect."

He grinned wryly. "Not anymore, I'm not."

I searched his face desperately one last time, looking for any sign of foolery—part of me halfway expected James Potter to come popping out of the compartment, yelling, "Surprise!"—but I had no such luck.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked gently, reaching out once more to take hold of his arm. "We could've talked about it, figured something out. It would've been fine."

His gaze dropped to the floor. "I had already made up my mind, and once it was done, it was done." He glanced back up at me, once, quickly. "I didn't want you to be disappointed. You had already gone through so much…"

He trailed off, and I took a moment to pull in a deep breath, to start digesting the fact that this really was happening—Remus really had resigned, and Potter really was—

Wait.

"Potter," I said slowly, the beginnings of irritation stirring once more in the pit of my stomach. "You resigned and Dumbledore passed the badge to _Potter_? Is he _mad_?"

This time, Remus' grin was an honest one, and he let out a chuckle. "Lily, it's going to be fine—"

"Like hell it is!" I interjected hotly, "Remus, I can't work with him!"

"You _can_," he said firmly, taking hold of my shoulders, "and you _will_. James—well, he'll be fine." It was no comfort to me that Remus still sounded a bit unsure himself. "And really, who else would you have it be?"

Both of us glanced to the side, where we could see the three other boys through the window in the compartment door. Potter and Black were flicking Bertie's Beans at each other with their wands, attempting to lodge the candies in obscure orifices, and Pettigrew was trying in vain to balance a chocolate frog on his nose.

"I suppose you have a point," I admitted grudgingly.

"Everything will be fine," Remus insisted as he led us back down the corridor, towards my compartment. "I'll work on James. Everything'll turn out, you'll see."

In comic irony to his statement, a small explosion sounded from behind us, and we both twisted around to see thick smoke billowing from the boys' compartment. A second later, there was a round of raucous laughter. Remus and I looked at each other, his expression half-worried, half-exasperated.

"Merlin help me," I groaned.

* * *

I first met Severus ten years earlier, the summer after I had turned six. I was at the corner grocery with my mother and sister, picking through a bin of apples to find the shiniest, when he caught my eye.

Preston was a small town, and our section of the city was even smaller. We lived in the far lower-east corner of the city proper, known as Riversway, just off the River Ribbly. Nearly every household could tie their meager income, in some form or another, to the nearby docks. It was a plain little establishment, with very few gardens or trees to break the monotony of the house fronts, and an abundance of scraggly-haired, scabby-kneed children, but the people were friendly enough and most in the neighborhood considered it to be somewhat tight-knit.

Which was why it was so unusual to see to see someone unknown out and about—especially at a place like the grocery. I leant around the edge of the produce bin, peering at the strange boy as he walked along the nearby meat counter. In fact, I leant so far over that I fell, tumbling to the ground amidst a shower of apples.

"Lily!" my mother chided, dropping to her knees to help me up. "You _must_ learn to pay attention, darling. How many times have I told you that? Are you all right?"

Eyes welling up more from embarrassment than injury, I nodded, and her expression turned sympathetic. "Come, now, sweetheart. It's all right, see? There's nothing too badly damaged. Up you get. Let's get the rest of these picked up, shall we?"

I began picking up the rogue pieces of fruit one by one, tears rolling silently down my flushed cheeks. When I came to one particular apple, squashed and bruised nearly beyond recognition, I began sobbing in earnest. Just as I bent over to pick it up, though, the toes of a scuffed pair of trainers appeared in my field of vision. I followed the trainers up to two knobbly ankles and two scrawny legs and a skinny body clad in a too-large shirt and a pair of too-small shorts.

Wordlessly, the mystery boy reached down and picked up the damaged apple, but as soon as his fingers touched it, it was no longer damaged. He held it out to me in one hand, even redder and rounder than it had originally been. I stared at him in disbelief. A small smile lit his eyes and curled up his lips in response.

"Lily?" My sister stood a short distance away, her little brow furrowed as she looked on, her tone uneasy. "What-?"

"Severus!"

The boy glanced over his shoulder at a very tall, slim woman with his same hooked nose and dark hair, and then back at me, quickly. As suddenly as his smile appeared, it was gone, replaced by a wide-eyed expression of intent urgency. Silently, he raised a single finger to his lips and whispered, "Shhh."

Dropping the apple down into my hand, he turned and ran back to his mother, not sparing me a backward glance.

Petunia stepped up beside me, eyeing the apple warily, as though it might jump up and bite her. "How did he do that?" she asked.

I turned the fruit over in my hands, feeling the unmarred smoothness of the skin beneath my fingers. "It was like…like magic."

Petunia reached out and plucked it out of my hands, dropping it neatly back into the bin.

"Hey!" I protested, rising up on my tiptoes to peer back down into the bin, frantically searching for the apple. But it had fallen down to the bottom, its sudden descent causing a small avalanche, and there was no hope of finding it again. Tears pricked my eyes once more. "He gave that to _me_!"

"Girls!" my mother called impatiently from where she was waiting by the trolley, ready to move on now that the mess was cleaned up. "Come along, now. We've other things to get."

Petunia grabbed my hand, tugging me towards our mother. "That's rubbish," she told me shortly. "There's no such thing as magic. Everybody knows that."

I glanced back in the direction that I had seen the boy run, but there was no sign of him or his mother. They had simply disappeared.

Little did I know then that Severus Snape would appear in my first grade class that year, and that he would sit two rows behind me, a convenient spacing to be able to slide notes back and forth along the linoleum. Little did I know then that we would grow up together and become the best of friends—because even though the other kids, my own sister included, teased him, I thought he was positively _corking_. And little did I know then that he would be the first boy I would truly come to love—not that silly, puppy-dog kind of love, but the deeper, more binding bonds of friendship-love—and also the first boy to truly break my heart.

Little did I know then, but as it turned out, I wouldn't stay oblivious for long.


End file.
